


What Choice Did You Have?

by rosegoldsirenhome



Series: Er Wird Dich Schon Nicht Fressen [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Blood Drinking, Cannibalism, I Have No Clue What I'm Writing, Settlement System, cannibalism mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldsirenhome/pseuds/rosegoldsirenhome
Summary: Is he a raider? Is he a boy? Or is he in between the lines.  Did you have to kill him? Or did you want to?





	What Choice Did You Have?

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I wrote this over the course of... crazy inconsistent days. I've tried to maintain a steady flow of narrative and mood, but I've gotta say. I have awfully weird phrasings. 
> 
> Please be gentle with me and check out the last fic I posted in the series.

The Commonwealth is cold this time of year, a frost lingers in the air yet you shrug it off as if your whole body doesn't tense and your legs don't speed up to reach your destination. There's just a routine check of settlements on the list of things to do and Tenpines seems to always be a shithole. Ghouls, super mutants, and scrawny raiders that don't fill the belly because they themselves haven't gotten food stored ‘cept for shelf stable goods they can't bear eating forever. 

 

You look an easy target to those unaware or desperate enough to try stealing from your load. You pull along a wagon of winter rations with a couple of goody bags made at home, arms tense from pulling weight for so long. Homemade candy seems to keep the bleaker season of the year feeling a little brighter. Makes people happy and compliant, makes them stew a bit on whether or not it's worth complaining about every little thing when you do so much for them in the first place. Not that you mind helping. You just have more important things to do as a future emperor. 

 

A streak of light shoots past you from the side and you come to a halt, taking your time turning around. It wouldn't be hard to put any dog in the wasteland down even with your hands tied behind your back-- which is moderately sad. “Don't even think about it. You look forward and get to the ground.”

 

That's… new. You get to the ground and lay there, a smile on playing softly on your face. 

 

“This feels a little impersonal, don't you think? Killing a man on his stomach?“

 

There's a moment's hesitation and you wonder if this man can actually do the deed and lay you flat. 

 

“I'm not going to kill you… I just…-I need what you're carrying.”

 

“Go ahead. Take it. Just don't kill me, please… I have a son.” You aren't lying.

 

The armed thief walks forward and comes to stand by your legs. 

 

It’s funny. You remember being in just such a position years ago. More secret lovers hidden, a second life, and a gun in your hand. Your eyelids slide shut and you kick out at the ankle closest you. 

 

The man falls and you're on him, the fight doesn't last long because you've plunged a combat knife through his neck and between his… everything. He pulls in a gasp as well as an influx of blood, filling his lungs with his last breath. 

 

The copper smell is nauseous and this one shouldn't have died. His face is too young to be that of an experienced killer… but you had no choice. You really didn't. 

 

In a fluid motion, you pull out the knife and slurp at the warmth that flows from the mortal wound. You don't do this often. Drinking blood tends to be bad for people. Too much iron.

 

You never tested out your ability to do it, though. But you seem to be fine enough tearing chunks out of people with your teeth and yet you never tested that out. A half mask of blood covers your lower face and you lower your head, locks of curled black hair obscuring your vision upwards. “You shouldn't have picked me. You shouldn't have…. You just needed help, didn't you?” 

 

But you can't change what one young fool thought would save his life. You'd bury the kid if you could. You'd take a bite and make use of a waste of life if he was one; and he wasn't. 

 

It occurs to you, despite being so long out of the vault, that this hasn’t happened before and you just don’t know what you need to do. Because there are raiders and then there are people. This one blurs the lines. 

 

You decide on a raider. Sacrifices need to be made for the greater good and plenty of raiders started off young and in need.    
  
When you get off the ground it’s slow and sluggish, like pulling out of a pool after taking a soak fully clothed. 

 

As you go back to the wagon, you realize how young you are. Not even ten years ago you had prom. You enlisted as soon as you started college and they just took you. You’re not even thirty. 

 

There’s a tire that squeals as you pull the supplies along behind you. 

 

You’re not even thirty. 

 

They needed young idiots to fill the slots where old spies were too well known. 

 

You waited until you had sex with Nora before you called it your first time… with someone you loved. 

 

You weren’t even thirty. 

 

But they needed warm bodies and kids they could exploit. 

 

And when they were done, they just sent you home. 

 

 

They just gave you a pat on the back, thanked you for your service and shipped you back home. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this work, please leave a comment and subscribe to the series.
> 
> Please comment and suggest which companion interaction you'd like me to write about next. I would kill for you if you gave me some quality reviews. Or not. All reviews are much beloved.


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